


Sweet Oblivion

by itzteegan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hawke (Dragon Age), Confessions, Feels, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Top Anders (Dragon Age), Virgin Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: Gael leaves the door open for Anders.
Relationships: Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Sweet Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> I can't take full credit for this idea, as it was inspired by @EmphaticDream on Twitter. So this is for them! Thank you (and also not) for giving me even more plot bunnies to work with. XD (Just kidding, I loved writing this, I hope y'all love the feels-y smut, too.)

He hadn’t heeded his warning after all.

Admittedly, Anders had hoped, hoped that he would not, hoped that he would try the door and find it open. A small part of him still resisted, still told him that this would all end horribly, told him to hope to find only a locked door. But he couldn’t deny how his heart soared to find that it swung open, easily and silently, and he took a shuddering breath as he stepped inside.

_He meant it. He really meant it._

Softly ascending the stairs one by one, he noted how quiet the estate was. The staff must have already gone to bed at this hour, and he wondered if Gael was even still awake. His heart clenched nervously in his chest, wondering if perhaps it had been a mistake, if he’d waited too late into the night, if he was simply being tested only to be discarded later. _No, he’s not like that_ , Anders told himself, banishing the nigh dormant memories threatening to awaken once more. Years had passed between then and now, Anders was wholly different, and so was Hawke. He was no longer a young boy afraid of rejection, though he couldn’t deny the way his heartbeat trilled in his chest as he reached for the door to Gael’s room.

The rogue was standing there in front of the fireplace, leaning against the bed post, _waiting_. At hearing his door open, his gaze flicked up to him, the barest of smiles gracing his face as he noted, voice soft and low, “You’re here. I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Anders felt he’d likely been a fool to worry he wasn’t wanted, but he had to know for sure as he asked, “Are you sure you want me here?”

Gael looked down at his hands, his rough, calloused hands that Anders well knew could wield daggers like none other. He almost seemed _bashful_ as he admitted, “If you hadn’t come, I’d be out there looking for you.”

He huffed, unable to deny the arc of affection that shot through him, followed swiftly by arousal. He’d so very seldom meant much to anyone. Mostly he was a pain in the arse, if he made his presence known. Otherwise, he was just another mage, just another face in a sea of faces all forced into the same cage. Only two people had ever given him the time of day before, and only one of them had shown him what love _could_ be. And now, of course, that man was dead. Taking a breath, Anders admitted, “When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose.” Pausing a moment, he added, a little more softly, “It would kill me to lose you.”

Reaching out to him, Gael’s hand fell comfortingly against his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck as he murmured, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now, for better or worse.”

Anders let out a breathy chuckle. “I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t fall in love again.” Cupping Gael’s lightly-stubbled cheek, he mused, “It’s a promise I will most cherish breaking.”

Pulling the rogue close to him so he could feel every inch of that lean, muscled body, Anders consumed him with a kiss, as if the mage just might perish should he not drink of his lips. Gael responded immediately in kind, a low moan settling in the back of his throat almost like a purr. Those deft hands rested on Anders’ waist, finding purchase before pulling, tugging him toward the bed. There was a glint in his eye as they separated, Gael shooting Anders a small grin before he untied his robe and let it fall away. He seemed amused when the mage’s eyes widened ever so slightly, fingers fumbling as he hurried to strip himself of his own robes. Hawke reclined on the bed, lazily watching him, dark eyes piercing even in the shadows.

Once he finally got his boots and the rest of his clothes off, Anders was quick to close the gap between them, climbing on top of the rogue and claiming his lips in a searing kiss. His hands wandered, mapping out the planes of Gael’s dark skin, acquainting himself with each curve and every scar. There was one there on his chest that he knew well, he’d gotten it defending Anders during a fight with a group of Tal-Vashoth. At the time, his heart had clenched, not knowing how bad the wound was, if the blade that slashed him was poisoned or not, but he’d pulled through just fine. Another slice through the meat of his forearm, a wound Anders hadn’t witnessed but had bandaged up later when Gael had brought himself to the clinic. “Just another Lowtown scuffle,” he’d said, and Anders had rolled his eyes and admonished him to be more careful.

And that had been their way for a while. Their pointed exchanges of “be careful” and “take care of yourself” and “watch your back” had been traded effortlessly, going unnoticed by most as meaning nothing more than exactly what was said. But underneath there was a current of hidden truth, an exchange that meant so much more. They may not have _specifically_ said “I love you”, but they had given each other the sentiment over and over again while not acknowledging the true feelings behind it. Even now Anders balked at going _quite_ that far, unwilling still to put words to it, as if taking that extra step would change things, things he wasn’t yet sure he wanted to change.

The thoughts in the back of Anders’ mind was interrupted as their hardening lengths brushed up against one another, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to bury himself within the rogue’s tight heat. Moaning through the sensation, he parted from Gael just long enough to ask, “Got any oil?”

Gael blinked, his eyes barely focused as he asked, “Oil?”

“Oil,” Anders repeated, nibbling along his stubbled jaw. “You know, for …”

“ _Oh_ ,” Gael murmured as it seemed that Anders’ meaning caught up with him. “Um, I think there’s some in the kitchen …”

Anders snorted at the thought of sneaking through the estate to the kitchens, naked as the day he was born, just to fetch some oil. “Never mind that, I should have some in my robes.” Bestowing him with one more kiss, he crawled off the bed and stooped to rifle through his robes for a little vial that he’d tucked in there earlier that evening _just in case_. It seemed that foresight paid off as Hawke’s instincts had failed him.

He stilled for a moment as he came back up on the bed, oil in hand, realising he was assuming something he probably shouldn’t. Anders didn’t mind either way, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasised a time or two - alright _more_ than that - about giving rather than receiving. If Gael felt strongly about it, however, he’d switch in a heartbeat, and so he checked in with, “Hey, are you alright with receiving, or …?”

The smile that easily slid up Gael’s beautiful face shot right through Anders as he practically purred, “Oh, _please_ …”

That was all Anders needed to know as he uncorked the vial and poured some oil on his fingers, rubbing them to help warm it up a moment as Gael spread his legs. He tested him, slathering some over his hole before sliding a digit inside, and Gael sighed and canted his hips ever so slightly. _Oh_ now that was a lovely sight, and he leaned down to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. He was rewarded with a shudder and a moan, which only implored him to repeat the action as he slowly slid his finger out and then back inside, testing to see how relaxed he was. Gael proved to be a little tighter than he’d been anticipating, but he didn’t mind, truly. He chalked it up to it likely having been a while for him - he hadn’t _seen_ him take anyone to bed, nor heard talk of it, for the past three years - with perhaps a dose of nerves. No matter, he didn’t mind spending a little more time prepping, making sure that he was ready.

And so after he added some more oil, one finger slowly became two as he swallowed Gael’s cock. The rogue squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply and steadily as one hand reached down and tangled itself in Anders’ hair. He worked him over and then some, sucking, licking, and fingering until it seemed like he relaxed more and more under his ministrations. It was nigh heavenly to hear him moan, to see his muscles undulate in response to Anders. He was painfully hard, arousal building itself to a frenzied peak, and it was only by a thin string of self-control that he didn’t just bury himself inside him immediately.

Slicking up his own member, he lined himself up, breathing heavily but evenly so he could concentrate. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he breached the other man, slowly and carefully, not wanting to rush for the sake of rushing. Beneath him, Gael's eyes were still closed, and he drew in breaths like little pants, his face serene save for a wince as the head of Anders' member pushed past the inner ring of muscle. Lowering himself, Anders' lips brushed against his, attempting to both distract from the momentary pain and also to soothe it away and help him relax. Gael responded, though slightly delayed, following his lead as Anders continued, inch by agonising inch, his pace slower and slower by the moment as Gael momentarily stiffened beneath him here and there. The further he went, however, the more Anders got the feeling that something was off, and it became a feeling that he couldn't quite ignore as Gael hissed.

Anders pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, cupping his cheek as he asked, "Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?"

Gael shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against Anders'. "No, don't stop," he implored, his voice breathy and soft.

His insistence did little to push away that feeling, however, and so Anders pushed a little more. "Is there something wrong? Do you want to switch?"

He chuckled then, or close enough, more like an amused exhale as he revealed, "No, it's … I want this, I do, I've just … I've never done this before." Licking his lips, he breathed deeply as he requested, "Just … give me a moment?"

The full meaning of what he said took a moment to register, but once it did, it hit him like someone had tossed a stonefist spell at him. Gael was a _virgin_. Not only that, he'd chosen to let Anders of all people be his first, and the meaning of that was not lost on the mage. He stopped, then, pausing his forward progression in favour of peppering Gael's face and neck with kisses. He well remembered his own first time, a hurried affair in a darkened corner in the Circle, one that'd left him bleeding and hurt from the effort, his partner not even bothering to make sure that Anders had found the experience just as pleasurable or that he was even alright before he'd left him there, tear-streaked cheeks ablaze with shame. He didn't want that for Gael. He wanted the rogue to look back on his first time with fondness, knowing that it was with someone who cared about him, someone who ensured his own safety and pleasure even above their own. Even as his instincts and body screamed at him to continue, to thrust home, he resisted, instead reaching between them to palm Gael's flagging erection to encourage the pleasure to take over the discomfort.

Gael's breathy winces soon turned into moans, but Anders didn't stop, nibbling at a sensitive juncture at his neck until his hips canted towards his and he begged, "Anders, _please_ … _more_ …" At that request, Anders began once again, slower than before, not allowing his pleas to go faster affect him. Gael wanted more, yes, but Anders didn't want to push him too far, too fast. Not this time, not ever.

When he finally bottomed out, he simply held there a moment, Gael's legs wrapped around his waist, his erection now full in Anders' hand. Gael's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, fingers finding purchase on his shoulder and in his hair. Still he waited, waited until his legs tightened around him, waited until the natural tension that had wound throughout his body at the invasion relaxed, and even then he kept his pace slow, his other hand under Gael's hip to steady him.

Gentle. Unhurried. Such a far cry from his own first time. More like he would have wanted it to go, had he been given the choice. Gael seemed to revel in it, his body moving in sync to the rhythm, surrendering to the instincts within himself. He faltered here and there, seemingly overwhelmed, stuttering when he seemed unsure as to how to handle all the sensations coursing through him, but Anders kept it up for him, steady and sure where Gael's inexperience failed him. With each caress and every stroke, he showed him the depths of his feelings for him, how much he cared for him, how he … how he _loved_ him.

A warm feeling washed over him as the truth settled in, pooling in his gut, spreading through his body. In the heat of battle, in the dark of the night, in the back of his mind he'd wondered, turning the words over in his head. And they'd spent so long saying it _without_ saying it, the feeling was known and yet not, which meant when it made its full revelation, it was shocking and yet settling, as if he'd finally found home. Unable to wait any longer, Anders found himself murmuring, "I love you," against his lips, his body and his motions enforcing the message, expressing the sentiment further as if words weren't enough. For the barest moment, his heart clenched, wondering if he'd said it too fast, said it wrong, if he should have rather waited until they weren't in the heat of a moment like this to share such a thing openly, no longer hiding behind veiled concern and camaraderie.

But Gael didn't wait, didn't hesitate as he returned it. "I love you, too," he moaned, shuddering beneath him, tongue breaching Anders' mouth just as he breached him. His back arched and Anders held him closer, angling his thrusts until Gael cried out and he smirked, knowing well he’d hit pay dirt as he repeated the action. Gael had a hard time keeping up, then, head thrown back against the mattress, eyes squeezed shut once more as he fumbled, attempting to string words together and not quite succeeding. “There … _yes_ … oh … _oh_ … don’t stop … don’t … stop … _Anders_ …” His name was little more than a moan, one that shot a thrill of arousal through the mage so strongly he almost completely came undone. He managed to hang on, sweat dripping onto Gael’s own slick skin until the rogue gave one final whine and he felt him clench around his member, spilling into his hand.

With that, Anders let his head drop onto Gael’s heaving chest, his own thundering breaths shuddering through him as his hips stuttered, rhythm not quite as smooth as before as his own end began to overtake him. As he spilled inside him, Gael’s fingers softly stroked his hair, smoothing down the strands that had no doubt escaped the tie at the back of his head. Even with such a small, tender action, his heart bloomed in his chest, the feeling of _home_ and rightness settling in so strong, he doubted he ever wanted to be anywhere else again. This … this was where he belonged, come what may. And even as he parted from Gael, fetching a cloth to clean them up with before pulling him close as they drifted off into slumber, the truth of what had passed between them never wavered, only strengthened as Gael sleepily mumbled, “I love you.”

Giving him a squeeze, Anders returned it without another thought, “I love you, too,” before the sweet oblivion of the fade claimed him.


End file.
